


For Love and Lemons

by wildshesaid



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2716358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildshesaid/pseuds/wildshesaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, the stares were imminent. </p>
<p>He was there. Half-naked. Staring at her. It would’ve been rude to not reciprocate. </p>
<p>But this isn’t the first time she’s been over and it’s certainly not the first time he’s shirtless. Still, there’s a glint in his eyes and his lips are curved into a despicable smirk and she’s feeling like her first high school dance all over again. They are doing this back and forth thing with their eyes and she’s thinking he’s asking her for a chance but it’s not her he’s looking at. </p>
<p>He’s reaching behind her and she feels her heart beating so rapidly that she’s scared he might’ve heard her desperation. But her hands remain empty and her lips un-kissed. </p>
<p>For the first time in her life, Clarke is genuinely jealous of a fruit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Girl Almighty

**Author's Note:**

> This is me trying to be funny but failing awkwardly because I'm more of an angst kinda person? Idk. Enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
> Title from a clothing brand (lmao).

She wakes to the sound of feet scrambling against the wooden floor. Her usual instinct told her that it was probably Jasper or Monty screwing around in the middle of the night—much like they always do. But her rather logical side told her that it was probably not night time from the way the light is glistening through the curtains and the floors in her two-bedroom apartment was definitely _not_ wooden. 

A moment of clarity engulfs her and she is suddenly enveloped in blurry visions of last night’s rendezvous. There was a party—one she was reluctant to attend. There was also an extraordinary amount of alcohol—which probably accounts for this raging headache she was experiencing. And then there was the dancing. The swarming of bodies inside the frat house bumping and grinding against one another. It was ridiculous, and beyond her, that she was involved in such juvenile events. She was an _adult_ , for god’s sake. Twenty-one year old and she was still blacking out from frat parties like she was a still a freshman in college. 

Slight snores interrupted her internal argument with herself and Clarke turns towards the naked body laying next to her. 

And then she remembers the ending of last night’s little soiree; one which involved her running through the sprinklers with a certain long-haired charmer, which led to an intense half hour make-out session and somehow ending back here, where they probably performed rather obscene behaviors. 

 

“Damn it.” She mentally kicks herself for succumbing to her hormones. 

Clarke Griffin wasn’t a prude in any way, but after the debacle with Wells, she had sworn to at least _try_ to be a little coy. _But there goes that,_ she thought, leering over at the naked body of last night’s conquest. 

But, he was quite a looker and she would be lying if she wasn’t slightly relief that it wasn’t somebody else.

“Mhmm… come back to bed.” He whispers, almost inaudibly. She smiles at the drowsiness in his voice and against her better judgement, planted a kiss upon his lips.

“I wish but 7 a.m classes are the death of me.” She smiles against his lips as his hands reach for the back of her neck to pull her into an embrace. She contemplates wrapping her own arms around him for a second, not knowing his full intent. But Clarke is a woman—a woman with needs and she sure as hell wasn’t going to leave him hanging. 

As much as she would love to lay around and curl up into his chest, she really did not want to get the glare of death from professor Kane again. Really, what in the world was she thinking registering for the earliest class there is? 

 

Clarke gathers scraps of her belonging and bid a final farewell to the guy before ducking out unabashedly. She takes a quick glance at her phone and sees that she had missed a total of nine missed calls from Jasper and Monty, a very stern voicemail from her mother, and an abundance of obnoxious texts from her roommates. 

_Saw you leaving with adonis himself over there just wanted to say: don’t come home, have fun, and be safe!!_ -Monty

 _just wanted to say, we’re proud of ya clarke!!!!!!!!! it’s been too long since ya knooow_ -Jasper

 _Go get that vitamin D girl ;)_ -Jasper again

She stifles a small laugh at the sight of those two idiots commending her on her one night stand. Honestly, her love life is such a joke that even her roommates make it an effort to help Clarke throw herself at anything that moves. She doesn’t mind it however; she supposes that they were the closest thing she’s ever going to get to actual girl friends. 

It’s not that she was incapable of getting along with girls—Clarke just has always been a bit shy and timid around them. She may put up a hard exterior but in reality, she was just lonely and needed some actual friends. 

She became so engrossed in her replies to Jasper and Monty that she didn’t realize she had no idea where the bathroom was. Seeing as though there was another door nearby, she reaches for the door knob and twist it open. 

 

In all of Clarke’s young life, she has been in numerous embarrassing occasions, but never in her life had she felt so embarrassed to the point of sudden stupor. Honestly, she was _this_ close to believing that this is all just a horrible nightmare (or a start of a fantastic porn movie starring herself) and Clarke had decided against her roommate’s urges to attend the stupid party and stayed home to cuddle with her kitten instead.

I mean, this _has_ to be a dream right? 

Because lord, there was a wildly good looking man wearing nothing but a dainty little towel wrapped around his waist. His entire body was glistening with droplets of water and his hair was so sensually wet (was that a thing? She decided she couldn’t care) that she could feel her ovaries bursting. Clarke couldn’t imagine what kind of face she was making but she sure as hell wasn’t hiding the fact that she was gawking at his exquisite physique. 

There was a moment of silence shared between the two and she feels his eyes examining her own and suddenly she feels as if she’s not even remotely worthy enough to witness this fine piece of ass (she means art). 

Embarrassed at her rather disconcerting stares, she clears her throat and smiles sheepishly. 

“Umm.. bathroom. I’m looking for the bathroom?” She manages not to sound too astounded by his presence but the awkward pitch at the end of her sentence gave it away. 

His eyes shifts towards the right and he says, “Down the hall, to the right.” in one deep, calming tone. 

She apologizes to the man quickly and manages to duck out of there fast enough to hide the red that was already creeping onto her cheeks. 

Damn her paleness. 

———

After what feels like eternity in the shower and a quick impromtu brush to her teeth, Clarke is dressed in last night’s attire and ready to head to her Physiology lecture. 

She pokes her head out of the bathroom door to observe the premises before tip-toeing towards the front door. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to avoid the stranger from before but she certainly wasn’t going to prompt herself into yet another embarrassing debacle twice in one day. She was doing a perfectly good job of walking out of there without another mishap until she caught glimpses of a male figure leaning over the balcony railing. 

A cigarette hangs from his lips and she almost bit her lips at the sight. She had never been a fan of cigarettes—being a health student and all—but the sight of him holding it between those lips of his was very reminiscent of James Dean and God knows she has a secret shrine dedicated to the late actor himself. And as if God is testing her, she then sets sight on a wooden easel holding up what looks like a vibrant portrait of a sunrise. 

_The man looks like a God and he paints?!_

She wanted to curse herself for staring (again) but she also wanted to curse him for being yet another perfectly unattainable human being that she was never going to get. I mean, how does one approach their one night stand’s roommate and say I want to get to know you? That’s just room for more humiliation and awkward stories and she _knows_ she’s had too many of those. 

Clarke has got to stop cursing to herself because when she finally tears her attention away from her inner turmoil, she realizes that his back is now against the railings and he's staring straight at her. She doesn’t linger on his face for too long (because she’s had enough of that earlier), but she could have sworn there was a slight curve on his lips and goddamn it he’s _smirking_ at her. As if he knows what she’s debating, as if he knows just how much she wants to glide her hands all over the smoothness of his chest, and more importantly, as if he knows just how much she appreciates them meeting under these types of circumstances (you know, the one where he’s half naked). 

She turns away from his direction in the most casual way that she could and quickly scurries off and out of the apartment with what little dignity she has left. Clarke glances at her watch and for the umpteenth time this morning, and curses at herself for wasting too much time staring at him, _again_. She had been so consumed with her little run-in with the hot roommate that she now only has ten minutes to rush from the apartment all the way to her lecture hall across campus. 

A little chime rattles her attention and there’s an unread message from Jasper and Monty eagerly requesting details of her recent hookup. 

She sighs and contemplates telling her roommates of her little dilemma—fearing they’d think she’s some type of tramp or something. But she remembers that it’s Jasper and Monty she’s talking about and if there’s anything she knew about these two after two years of living together, it’s probably the fact that they are probably far more passionate about _‘whatever the hell you want’_ than she would like. 

But there's little to no time left and all she could manage was a short reply and hope that they'll spare her a haggling until night falls.

 _Guys, I may have picked the wrong roommate._ -Clarke


	2. Kiss me where it hurts

The funny thing about random hookups is that sometimes, that’s not all they turn out to be. Clarke clearly knows this, as she’s sitting in a coffee shop down the road from her place, eagerly waiting for the man she had hooked up with nearly a week ago. 

After she left Finn's place, she had pondered over the possibilities of it ever becoming a thing. First of all, she had only met him the night before—at a frat house for god’s sake. Second of all, she only realizes she didn’t even exchange numbers with him only after she had her third cup of coffee the next morning. And finally, of all things really, she was extremely attracted to his roommate. 

To be fair, he was a Greek god that wakes up at the break of dawn just to paint the sky. She hadn’t even thought about Finn until she received a text from an unknown number asking if she wanted to give it another try—copulation optional. At first she thought about turning him down. Let’s admit, Finn was a great looking guy, exceptional at lovemaking and pretty sweet for suggesting a real date. But she couldn’t see herself being in that apartment with him and not ogle at his roommate. 

I mean, that’s not fair to _him,_ is it?

But like always, she had to consult with Jasper and Monty over this first. 

She brought it up over their weekly pizza party one night, and to her surprise, they were eager to force her into it. Some great points were brought up and they had a lively debate on the pros and cons of going out with Finn. 

Pros; he’s handsome, probably smart being in aeronautics and all, has a pretty good looking roommate (possibly a future threesome, suggested by Monty), and she hasn’t been out on an actual date in awhile. 

Cons; she has no idea how he found her number, sex was good but not mind-blowing (not a deal-breaker though, Jasper quipped), has a really _really_ hot roommate (this could go either way—good or bad), and could have a weird horse thing for all she knew (he had quite an odd collection of horse figurines in his room). 

After thinking about it long and hard, she figures it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He could be the love of her life for all she knew, and if it doesn’t go so well, she could probably use it as an excuse to get to know his roommate. 

And so, with Jasper and Monty’s restless encouragements, she calls him the next day and sets up a small date at her favorite coffee place.  
.  
.  
.  
Finn arrives ten minutes after she does and orders a chocolate croissant and a Americano for himself. They are seated next to the windows and engage in small talks about life, school, and even politics. She finds that she’s enjoying his company and for a second there, forgets all about his unjustly hot roommate. But somewhere along the way, their conversation takes a turn at his apartment and the subject of said roommate comes up. 

“So, have you known each other long?” Clarke tries her hardest to not sound so eager. 

“Long enough, I guess. We don’t get along like we used to though.” Clarke furrows her eyebrows at him before an _‘Oh?’_ escapes her lips. “Let’s just say that things weren’t so great when we were freshmen. But I needed a place to stay and he had a spare room in his apartment. But I really only think he’s doing it out of obligations.” 

“What kinds of obligations?” She leans forward curiously, not realizing that Finn had caught glimpse of her cleavage as she does so. 

He lets out a smirk before Clarke gets an answer, “Obligations for a friend,” He doesn’t continue on but instead glances down at her chest and she realizes the change in atmosphere. A crimson red stains her cheeks as she quickly straightens up against her chair. “Listen, we could either spend the rest of today talking about my roommate here, or we could discuss _other_ things back at my place.” 

His eyes are dark with desire and she shivers under such intensity. She liked Finn, she really did, but a small thought in the back of her mind plaques her. _Is this all they were going to be?_ She doesn’t mind casual hookups or even being sex friends but she honestly does think he’s a great guy and a small bit of her had hoped that they were going to be more than casual hookups. 

She’s about to decline his oh-so enticing invitation when an unmerciful hand plants itself on her thigh. She lets out a little gasp before his hand begins to crawl up her leg. Damn it. There was no way she was going to decline now—not with those hands on her and the way he’s licking his lips just looking at her all quivered up and stuff. 

“Such as?” She bit her lips and whispered flirtatiously as her hand gets ahold of his. 

 

“How good you’d taste with whipped cream all over?” He growls back and she feels her heart skipping a beat. 

———

They are back at his apartment now; bodies entangled around one another as they lay naked across his queen sized bed. There is an obscene amount of whipped cream around them and she feels the stickiness on her skin. She debated going to the bathroom to clean herself up but the chances of possibly running into his roommate struck her instantly and there’s a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she can’t seem to get rid of. 

Horror embroils her as a pair of feet stumbles against the wooden floor. 

She doesn’t understand why the knot in the stomach is tightening but her will to get up has only lessen when his feet inches closer to the room. A door slams shut outside and she figures he had disappeared into his own room. 

There is relief in her chest and for some strange reason, the thought of him finding out that she’s here with Finn bothers her to no end. 

Clarke looks over at Finn who is actively engaged in whatever it is that he’s doing on his phone and the feeling of _this_ being a casual thing engulfs her again. Her last relationship was everything but casual and she told herself that it was time to try this casual dating thing but she didn’t realize how empty it made her feel inside. Was this normal for other people? Is there such a thing as intimacy without emotions? Was she overthinking things? 

The worse part about not knowing is feeling completely useless. The funny thing was, she thinks she might actually like this guy? He’s funny and endearing but in the two times that they’ve met, there was sex involved and she’s scared to imagine how a real date might turn out. 

She turns to her side and face Finn; her arm is sprawled across his chest and he looks away from his phone for a bit to place a small kiss on her forehead. 

“Hey,” he said softly into the skin of her forehead. 

“Hey,” she replies, moving closer to his chest. “Does your roommate mind if I’m over?” She _really_ wants to kick herself for bringing him up.

Finn shrugs lightly, “Don’t see why he would. Bellamy’s had his fair share of casual hookups.” 

_Casual._

The word struck her like a cold gust of wind on a summer day. She turns away from him instantly, unable to hide the contempt in her eyes. 

“Not that this is a casual thing.” He retract immediately. When Clarke doesn’t utter a reply immediately he scoots closer to her and wraps one arm around her. “I’m really sorry that came out wrong.” 

Dreary silence encase the room and she figures that it’s time to go before the waterfall escapes her eyes. Crying on the second date is so not what she wants to be remembered as. 

“I’m going to head out for now.” 

She peels herself from the mattress and quickly gather her scattered clothes. Finn is sitting on his bed now, his eyes are pleading her to stay and she’s seconds away from it but she thinks she’s got too much pride for this. 

When she’s seconds away from floundering out the door, he catches her hand and pulls her into an embrace, “I’d love to see you again.” 

Her arm wraps around his back half-heartedly and she smiles her bravest smile before detaching herself from the man. “See you,” She says with half the intent.  
.  
.  
.  
Clarke is only halfway out the door before she bumps into _him._

_Bellamy._

That was what Finn called him. 

“I’m so sorry!” She clamors at the contact. 

There’s confusion in his eyes and she thinks that he probably doesn’t recognize her from before but a small smile makes its way onto his lips and she feels her heart fluttering a bit. Clarke takes a second to appreciate the moment god had graciously bestowed upon her and reminds herself to thank the man upstairs later for this marvelous occasion. 

“It’s no problem.” Bellamy’s hair is a disheveled mess and he's dressed in a white t-shirt with dark jeans that hung a little bit too low for her to be serious. “You must be.. Finn’s friend.” 

His smile seems to drop at the mention of Finn and the air is suffocating again as she fumbles around for an acceptable answer. What _exactly_ was she to Finn? He looks at her with uncertainty in his eyes and she’s bewildered by the gaze. And there’s that tight knot in her stomach again—but this time, it’s ten times as worse because he knows. He knows that she’s with Finn. He knows that she’s just some random casual hookup of the week for his roommate and she’s smothered with the thought of being pitied by him. 

Enveloped in her own humiliation, Clarke quickly dash towards the front door. But before she is successful, a calloused hand tugs at her own and she sees him looking at her with another hesitant look. She contemplates stopping but her face is flushed red and she’s afraid of the waterworks that’s already threatening to fall any minute now. 

She’s clearly crazy because that one simple touch of his is sending her waves of desires she can’t even comprehend. Her hand is still tingling over the touch and she just can’t do this right now. Not when her mind is a jumbled mess and her heart doesn’t seem that far behind. 

On one hand, she’s torn between Finn’s words and really, she should have known that it was just a casual thing for him. And she thought she didn’t mind it being casual—because Clarke likes to think that she’s _not_ the clingy type. But she has this damn tendency to fall for the first boy that sweet talks her and she’s torn over the fact that she might like being Finn, even if it means that his feelings aren’t there. 

And then there’s Bellamy—the hot roommate she hasn’t stopped thinking about since she walked in on him half-naked. He’s the literal epitome of tall, dark and handsome and she’d be lying if she hadn’t wondered how being with him would be like (naked or not). And before their little run-in, she hadn’t even realized that he was at all attracted to her. And even now, she’s not so sure herself? But her thoughts escape to the image of him on that balcony, painting the sunrise and her heart is leaping like there’s no tomorrow at the imagery. They haven’t even had a proper conversation yet but there’s the way that he looks at her, and the way his hand pulls onto hers and she’s becoming weak at the knees just at the thought. 

 

This is just the type of luck that Clarke has, really, because at twenty-one—after three years of being alone—she finds herself embroiled in a love triangle she didn’t even anticipate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit more angsty than I anticipated (see? Incapable of comedy I swear) and I know it's lacking Bellarke scenes (trust me I didn't like writing Flarke scenes either) but it'll get better in the next few chapters I swear. 
> 
>  
> 
> I was also suppose to be studying for finals but honestly, a girl can only take so much computer science in one night. As always, thank you for the kudos and the comments. They make me feel so loved :)


	3. Where the city meets the sea

Clarke curses herself for her inability to say no. She was two weeks into putting the whole Finn-Bellamy debacle past her when she finally broke down and said yes. Yes to Finn’s persistent apologies, yes to his subsequent pleas for an actual date (“A _real_ one,” he promised), and lastly, yes to the fact that maybe she might have hallucinated the whole thing with Bellamy. She hardly exchanged more than a few sentences to the man, for God’s sake. 

She hadn’t planned on seeing Finn after the incident, to be honest, but he was persistent, if not desperate. For two weeks, he had came by her apartment asking for her as her roommates ad-libbed a series of absurd excuses as Clarke watched from behind the door. The second week, when she finally thought he had given up, he instead elected to deliver artfully-arranged bouquets of flowers on her doorstep with the same message every time. 

_‘Please call me back,_

_Love,  
Finn’_

If she was honest, Clarke had found the gesture sweet, and it made her hopeful that maybe Finn wasn’t such a bad guy after all. But she couldn’t put herself through that anymore. She couldn’t handle the ambiguity of their relationship. She needed something more consistent, more solid than what Finn had offered her. 

She ended up calling him on a friday night, declaring that she wasn’t interested in casual hookups or flings but he countered her every declarations with reassurance that if she had given him another chance, that he would make it right. She thought about declining his offer, fervently skeptical of his intentions, and she’ll be damned if she falls for his charms again. 

But the past few weeks hadn’t been so kind. Her mother was practically breathing down her neck about medical school applications, and school itself was especially taxing this quarter. And so, in a moment of weakness, she had somehow agreed to his offer of one date. Monty and Jasper weren’t so worried about it ("Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all, and if it goes horribly wrong, at least you got a free meal out of it,”).

 

The date went on as typical as she had imagined. He took her out to a fairly expensive restaurant as they engaged in conversations about school and all that first-date talks. After the meal, they found themselves strolling in a nearby park. Finn, unbeknownst to her, was a huge astrology nerd, pointing out all the constellations in the darkened sky above them. They ended up at his apartment just a bit later, settling on a string of Disney movies outside in the living room where they sat. It was nice, and Clarke thinks she’s going to have a hell of a hard time telling him that tonight would be the very last. 

When the ending credit of Pinocchio began to roll, Clarke is determined to set him straight once and for all. She’s about to utter the apologetic words when an unfamiliar brunette comes stumbling through the front door, followed by a similarly intoxicated Bellamy. Her face falters a bit too quickly at the sight. 

_Of course he had a girlfriend,_ she thinks.

Humility fills her as she silently curses herself for foolishly thinking that there was some sort of attraction between them. She should have known, because when a guy looks like _that,_ there was no way he would consider a girl like her attractive. 

She hears Finn calling out to her on the side but her eyes are strained on the couple in front of them. It’s almost impossible to concentrate on anything when all she hears is the sound of her heart breaking at the sight of Bellamy’s arm slipping around the brunette’s waist. 

Bellamy’s eyes bore into hers with more intensity than a guy with a date should, but even so, she didn’t even dare to pull away. He’s doing that thing with his eyes again—like he’s trying to relay a message to her, only she’s as lost as ever. Every bit of her wanted to search for clarification in him, but when he pulls the girl on his arm closer into his chest, all bets were off. 

“Fuck it,” She whispered under her breath before lunging towards a clueless Finn. Her lips crashed onto his in an instant. The kiss was sloppy and rushed and she’s about to pull away relaying her mistake to him when she feels him pulling her in closer, deepening the kiss as he does so. 

——— 

She made a mistake, a terribly grim mistake. 

Clarke didn't anticipate the events that had transpired a few nights ago. She didn’t think a moment of fleeting weakness was going to alter the course of her relationship with Finn so dramatically. Because yes, even though it was Clarke who had initiated the kiss, she hadn’t expect Finn to reciprocate so enthusiastically. 

After that night, Finn was like a lovestruck puppy; following her everywhere and anywhere he could. She tried to push him away but somehow it only made him want her more. He had even made it a point to memorize her class schedule and managed to find her after her lectures every single day. At first it was cute, like yeah, Clarke hasn’t gotten this type of attention from any guy since.. Wells probably. But still, Monty said it best when he said it was borderline creepy (bless his heart). 

———

After politely turning Finn away at the entrance of her anatomy lecture hall, Clarke has been in a daze all morning. It was hard, keeping up with the man. He was cute, she’ll give him that, but damn it was he persistent. Clarke had never had anyone openly chase her the way he did and while it flatters her like no other, it was doing more harm than good. She has been unable to process anything the past couple days with Finn pestering her about their relationship since the night of the date (and kiss). And honestly, she tried to come up with any plausible excuses to turn him down (“I need to focus on school”, “I’m not ready for a relationship”, “My mother won’t allow it”) but the boy didn’t budge. And when he flashes her those puppy-dog eyes, she couldn’t dare tell him that the reason she had kissed him that night was to make his roommate jealous. 

It was a moment of weakness and there was something about him that gets her all worked up like no other. 

Clarke is caught in a reverie when a figure slid into the vacant seat next to hers. The whole morning, her head seemed to be in another place. Finn had yet to fail to track her down each morning and profess his all-too-sudden love for her (Clarke thinks she must be an amazing kisser if a guy is willing to do this much for her after one kiss). Which explains why she didn’t seem to notice the figure next to her until about fifteen minutes into lecture when she almost caused an embarrassing uproar at the realization. 

Clarke had to do a double take at her syllabus to see if she was in the right lecture hall because let’s be real, he was the last person she would expect to meet in her 8:30 a.m. anatomy lecture. But the professor was her mother’s best friend after all and Clarke thinks enough of herself to know that she wouldn’t just wander into some random lecture hall. 

So the mistake must be on his behalf, right? Or was the universe playing some sort of trick on her? 

“B-Bellamy?” She whispered, eyes strained on his aloof exterior like he was an apparition ready to disperse at any given moment. 

When the boy next to her didn’t peel his eyes away from the slides up ahead, Clarke took it upon herself to level her eyes with his. It took a bit more effort but after awhile, his gaze shifted towards hers as an annoyed scoff escaped his lips. 

“Do I know you?” He asked quietly, genuine disinterest rang loud and clear in his voice. 

Hurt flickered in her eyes for a quick second before she realizes that she had her glasses on and her hair pulled back into a a messy side braid and she remembers that 8 a.m. Clarke looked nothing like 8 p.m. Clarke. 

“I’m, uh, your roommate’s—"

It’s as if the mention of his roommate had trigger a memory in him but before Clarke could finish her introduction, Bellamy had interrupted her with a cold, “Girlfriend.” 

Clarke doesn’t admit that she slightly relished in the way it sounded like acid in his mouth. 

“Not really,” she replied coolly. 

He eyed her for a second, brows furrowed slightly, “You’re not?” 

“Nope,” she said, “It’s complicated.. but no.” 

 

It was faint, and maybe a figment of her imagination, but Clarke could have sworn that Bellamy’s lips had curved into a slight smile. It took everything in her to fight the telltale blush that was creeping onto her cheeks. She also doesn’t admit that she had noticed the way his shoulders seems to relax at the information. But she doesn’t deny the fact that it stroked her ego quite fondly at the observation.

“I’ve never seen you in class before?” She managed to whisper. 

His eyes shifted back to the professor, “I’m not usually in the front.” 

“Makes sense..” she started, “Are you pre-med?” 

He turns to look at her now. With a slight shrug, he replied, “Nah, I’d rather die.” 

A stifling laugh escapes her mouth. “Didn’t peg you for one, to be honest.” 

His lips quirked up into a small smile and Clarke feels the burning heat inching up her cheeks again. 

“Oh?” 

“I thought you’d be an art major.” The blush grew as she recount the scene on his apartment balcony.

“Nah, criminal justice.” he replied surely.

“Yeah?” It was Clarke’s turn to don the knitted brows. “Is this an elective then?” Clarke’s face grew even more confused. "Jesus, you must be the only one willing enough to sit through this voluntarily."

A small laugh disturbed the silenced air and she could feel him leaning closer to where her right arm lay; eyes glinting with mischief and lips quirked up into the most wicked of smirks. 

“What can I say, I’m very fond of the human body.” 

 

They don’t say anything else after that, only shooting small glances here and there as the two-hour lecture drew on. Clarke, obviously too flustered to even manage more than an unsettled hum and Bellamy, perhaps too cheeky to offer anything else at all. 

They sat in amicable silence as Dr. Jackson distinguish the difference between pulmonary and systemic circulatory routes. It seems like she’s back in high school again; twirling her hair like a school girl as she shoot routined glances at the boy next to her. Clarke Griffin had never been the one to pine so desperately for a boy she barely knows, but there was heat radiating from where he sat and she finds herself wanting to close off this daunting space between them. 

When the clock strike 10:30, Clarke almost dreaded getting out of her seat. The past two hours had been so glorious that she doesn’t even feel time passing by. But alas, the bell had rang, signaling for the end of class, and her dreadful physics lecture awaits. When she looks over to where Bellamy previously sat, her face faltered at the sight of the vacant seat. Without her noticing, he had slipped out of the classroom along with the array of hasty students. 

Reluctantly, Clarke picked herself up from the wooden chair and trudge towards the door, letting the disappointment lapse over her. She reaches into her pocket for her phone when a foreign piece of paper grazed her skin. Confused, Clarke takes out the neatly folded piece of paper and unravel the note. 

The handwriting was messy, and seemingly rushed, but her heart thrashed harder than any waves in the ocean. 

_‘Save me a seat tomorrow. \- Bellamy’_

 

Clarke Griffin was never the kind of girl to pine so desperately for a boy, but her heart is beating callously and the grin on her face rivals the beaming sun above. The thing was, she’s never been a fan of morning lectures but she’s already counting down the minutes until the next lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no excuse for this subpar (and late) chapter. 
> 
>  
> 
> Title from The Getaway Plan.


	4. The moment I said it

Somewhere between sitting next to each other in class and quietly musing over Dr. Jackson’s blatant love for Grey’s Anatomy analogies, Clarke finds an unlikely friend in Bellamy Blake. 

It was odd because the mysterious bad boy persona she had pegged him with seems to drift away with every lame jokes he threw her way. One time, in the middle of class, he began whispering lame pick-up lines to her in the most monotonous tone he could muster and she nearly barked away with laughter. Despite his initial aloofness, he made quite an interesting companion. He laughed at nearly everything she said, and relished in Clarke’s tendency to embarrass herself on the daily. 

They talk about a lot of things—whether it’s what she had for dinner last night, or something he saw on the way to class. She finds that he doesn’t talk much about himself, other than the fact that he had a sister and liked to draw in his free time. It doesn’t bother her as much, however, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Clarke tells him all about her family (“Overbearing mom and exuberant dad,” she told him), about Jasper and Monty, and her short-haired American kitty Dusty back at home. She gushes over her favorite books and tv shows to him, and takes great pride in the fact that she’s kind of a movie snob. It’s crazy how comfortable he makes her feel, like they’ve known each other since forever ago. Clarke doesn’t remember the last time she’s had this much fun just discussing trivial matters such as the type of jam she liked on her toast. But it’s comforting and she doesn’t feel the need to be anyone else around him. 

They can talk for hours and still feel like it’s not enough. Yet, there’s one topic that they always seem to tip-toe around. 

“So, how are things with you and Finn?” 

They were sitting idly by in class one day, as Dr. Jackson toys around with a faulty projector. The question took her by surprise, and it showed as she nearly drops the pencil in her hand. 

“What?” She clamors, unable to hide the bewilderment in her voice. 

Bellamy merely shrugged, “You were together, weren’t you?” 

Clarke was stunned for a moment, unable to come up with any explanation for her short-lived affiliation with Finn. What was she to say, anyways? What was the acceptable version of _‘I fucked your roommate twice and stopped because I thought you were hotter’_ or _‘I only kissed him that night to make you jealous even though I had absolutely no rights to do so’_? There was no good way to explain either one and she didn’t want to give off the impression that she was some sort of harlot, no matter how true the statements may be. 

She bit her bottom lip, and offered an apologetic smile, “He uh, he got kind of clingy. It was suppose to be a one time thing.” 

She half expected him to ridicule her for being a bitch (this was his roommate for god’s sake, they at least had to be friends right?) or maybe even sneered at her for being a floozy but to her surprise, he merely threw his head back and bellowed out a big, hearty laugh. 

“That’s good,” he began, in the midst of his rumbling laughter, “Finn is kind of a dick.” 

A sigh of relief escapes her, “I mean, he’s not too bad. But the man did not take no for an answer.” A grin spreads evenly on his face and she feels a thump shuddering about in her heart. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing to her insides. “Why do you live with him, then?” 

She figures this was a bad question because as soon as it came out, the grin that was up and high on his face had faltered in a matter of seconds, replaced by a disheartening frown. 

“I’m sorry, that was out of line.” She offered. 

He only shook his head lightly, before opening his mouth to talk. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just… something I don’t like to dwell on too much.” A quizzical look encompasses her but she doesn’t press him any further. He stared ahead for a second, and surprises her completely when the next words escapes his lips. “I kind of owe it to him. I figured it’s the least I could do.” 

Clarke studies him for a second, unable to assess the situation. There’s a vague sense of responsibility in his words and she’s almost overcome with needs to understand what’s going on in that head of his. She wants to desperately unspool whatever thoughts was running through his head. _What is he thinking? Why is there regret in his words? What kind of memories is his conjuring up in that cryptic head of his?_ These were questions she wanted to ask, but so understandably afraid to do so. They were friends, she guesses, but how close did he consider them? Were they close enough to share personal events and memories? Sure, she thinks the world of him, and yet, he had no clue about Wells. She hadn’t even thought to bring up that mess, yet. So really, who was she to press him on about something he seems to be so justifiably uncomfortable with? 

Fearing she might be dampening the mood, Clarke tries to steer their conversation elsewhere. Anywhere else, really. 

“What, did you sleep with his girlfriend or something?” She snorted, as if that was the most ridiculous thing she could think of. 

“Yes.” 

The air surrounding them is still, and she could feel nearly every last drop of blood draining her face. Bellamy’s face remains stoic, and unamused, but she could see the guilt blurring every bit of his pensive brown eyes. 

Clarke considers her next words, unable to process his own. What was she to say to this? Nothing. She had no rights to say a thing. When Bellamy had noticed how stunned she became, he merely carried on with uncertain ease. 

"Freshmen year, Finn and I had always hung around the same group of people. Raven went to another college but she came around frequently enough. It wasn't that we were in some type of secret affair. No, she loved him, she always had. She was drunk and they were going through their monthly breakup routines. I just.. I just happened to be there." 

The pained expression never left his eyes and she couldn't help but wonder; _did he love her? And what about her?_

"Did you love her?" It wasn't her place to ask but the words came out faster than she realized. 

He didn't say anything at first, just simply staring blankly ahead, as if contemplating for an acceptable answer. 

And then, with quick resolve, he pursed his lips into a thin line and shook his head, "That’s not really up to me." 

Something lodged deep inside her and she feels physical pain for the boy beside her. As if his unrequited love had somehow relegate itself onto her and she's slightly suffocated by the thoughts. 

_Bellamy and his unrequited love._ Somehow, that thought pricked her heart harder than it should have. Clarke scolds herself for feeling even a bit of jealousy because really, who was she to feel that way? But she couldn't shake the look of self-condemnation in Bellamy's eyes and the overwhelming feeling of wanting to wipe away every last trace of it. 

Her hand reaches over to his carefully, soft fingers finding solace in his callous ones. He looks over to her with knitted confusion and she doesn't say anything except offer him a small smile, letting the touch say all that she couldn't convene into words. 

_I'm sorry._

———

Things after the whole ordeal with Finn and Bellamy were iffy at best. Clarke tried her best to steer clear of anything related to that nature of topics whenever she could but it was a dreadful task as Finn was still a prominent figure in Bellamy's life. He had recently stopped his tiring routines of following Clarke wherever she went but his presence never left the air between them. They were constantly tip-toeing around the idea of Finn, both with their respective pasts with the guy and it frustrated Clarke to no end. 

Because let's be honest, she liked Bellamy. 

Not, like him as a peer, or even as a friend. She like- _like_ him. As elementary as it sound. 

So this awkward dance of should we or shouldn't we was starting to wear her down. Clarke likes to think that she's not conceited, or self-centered, but there's been implications where she knows she's not the only one between the two of them with feelings not of the platonic kind. There's been lingering stares, and the fact that they held hands for the entirety of lecture the other day, when she was consoling him on his unrequited love with Finn's ex-girlfriend. Two hours of hand-holding was not something you did with mere friends, _right?_

So yeah, Clarke had pretty good reasons to think that this was not purely a figment of her imagination. No, she's almost certain this was real. But Bellamy, being the cryptic asshole that he was, was constantly undermining any plans she had to prove that this was not a platonic thing between them. 

After lecture the other day, after he had held her hand for a duration of two blissful hours, the asshole had dipped out of the room as soon as the class came to a halting stop. He didn't walk out of there like any other normal human being. No, he had literally darted for the door, as if his life had depended on it. Clarke hadn't even had the chance to stuff her laptop into her backpack when she turned back to him and realized the figure that was there just mere seconds ago had vanished almost instantly. No good byes or explanation, just a vague smell of a dissipating occupant. To say Clarke was fuming was an understatement. But she gave him the benefits of doubt, blaming it on the fact that it had been a touchy subject and maybe he was too embarrass to stick around and explain why he felt the need to hold onto her hand for so long. 

And so, the next day, she waited for him in the same class with coffee in hand, like she usually did, only to receive a text saying he wasn't going to make it to class that morning. Clarke tried not to sulk about it, but after two weeks of missed lectures and non-returning text messages, it was starting to rub her the wrong way. 

So, of course, Clarke does what any normal twenty-one year olds should do in a moment of crisis—consult with your gay best friends. 

"So he hasn't returned any of your texts?" Monty asked one night during their weekly pizza night. Clarke shook her head slightly, taking a bite of her own slice. "That's odd. You said you guys were getting along pretty well right?" 

"Yeah I guess. We never hung out outside of class but I'd say we got along fine during lecture." 

"Maybe he's trying to sort out his own feelings right now." It was Jasper that chimed in. "Maybe your tremendous hand-holding technique's gotten him feeling some type of way." 

"Or maybe it did the exact opposite." She answered wryly. "Maybe I scared him away." 

Jasper's lopsided smirk faltered immediately at this, "Please girl, you are a catch." The serious expression on his face made her chuckle a bit. It's time like these that she appreciated having these two dorks around. Sure, they gave unwarranted advice about fifty percent of the time, and sure, they were a bit too rambunctious for her own comfort, but there was no doubt that they were her best friends and really, she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

"Yeah Clarke, he would be stupid to walk away from all that." Her small chuckle had turned into a loud, rumbling laughter as Monty gestured his hands over to her in an exaggerated manner. "Just ask Finn. We all know he couldn't get enough." 

It was Jasper's turn to bark a resounding laughter as he double over at Monty's words of encouragement. Her two best friends high-fived one another loudly as Clarke refilled their wine glasses. 

"I'll cheer to that," she managed with a grin of her own. 

The three friends raised their respective drink and clinked their glasses against one another before gulping down the bitter liquid. They carried on with their indulgences of pizzas and cheap wine well past midnight when Clarke's cellphone lit up unceremoniously. Jasper and Monty's eyebrows cocked in confusion as Clarke read the caller ID. 

_Bellamy Blake._

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear." Jasper quipped, nudging Clarke as she contemplates picking up. 

A heavy sigh escapes her and she considers ignoring the call altogether because Bellamy Blake was not the person she wanted to talk to at this second. Not after he had pulled a disappearing act on her for nearly two weeks and act like nothing happened all of the sudden. 

But as much as she would want to ignore his call and give him a taste of his own medicine, she's overcome with the need to hear his explanation. As much as she would like to think that it hadn't phased her, it had. And the past two weeks had given her some insights of her own feelings for him. She concluded, that after days of mulling over his cold-shoulder, that it only hurt as much as it did because she genuinely cared for him. Cared more than she should for someone she just met but the truth was that she might even love him. And that itself was a terrifying thought. 

With reluctant resignation, Clarke answered the call. "Hello?"

A moment of silence transpire over them and it's a bit until she hears his own voice calling her name. _"Clarke?"_

She bit back the smile that threatened to crack at the sound of his voice. "What's up?" 

_"I'm sorry."_ was all that he said. 

"For what?" She couldn't help but want to push further. She figures she at least deserved an explanation. 

_"For the past two weeks."_ She waited for him to continue. _"Listen.. I don't want to do this over the phone. Do you think you could come to my place for a bit?"_

Jasper and Monty could sense the confusion in her eyes as they mouthed a silent _'what's up?'_. Clarke merely waved them away before turning back to Bellamy's call. 

"Um, now?" She asked in a squeak. She would be lying if she said it didn't excite her just a bit. 

_"Is this a bad time?"_ Clarke glances over at the clock on the wall. 12:45 a.m. It was past midnight on a Thursday night. She had class tomorrow morning and Clarke was pretty sure she's slightly tipsy. It would be a bad idea to go anywhere at this time in all of these circumstances.

So why the hell did the thought of seeing him at this hour excite her so much?

"This.. This isn't a booty call is it?" Clarke nearly jumped at the deafening laughter that broke from the other end of the line. Even Jasper and Monty had toppled over in shock at her revelation. "I'm serious, Bellamy." she frowned. It was a serious accusation, okay? 

_"No, definitely not."_ He managed in between his thundering laughs. _"Unless you want it to."_ She could practically hear the smug in his voice. 

Clarke ponders over the possibility for a moment, choosing to ignore that second comment and what it was doing to her body. It was late, but it had been awhile since she's seen him and the thought of being able to see Bellamy Blake in a casual setting was all the more enticing, to say the least. Not to mention, Clarke has a pretty good idea of Bellamy's dressing habits at home (half naked and all) so excuse her for being desperate enough to trek all the way over to that side of campus just to bask in that glorious image of his nakedness. 

 

"Okay, I'll be over in ten."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four things: 
> 
> 1\. Thank you for all your comments. I love reading each and everything single one of them. It gave me a lot of motivation just seeing your comments and seeing how much you love this shitty story. I am not the type to write long, drawn out stories but you made it possible with your unconditional love, support, and words of encouragement. So thank you for reading. 
> 
> 2\. This was suppose to be a 5-chapter story because I'm not confident enough to write anymore than that. But with the way things are going, I'm not going to restrict myself to merely five chapters. Still a huge fan of time skips so don't expect too long of a story. At most there will be 8 chapters (but even so, I'm still crossing my fingers for that much). 
> 
> 3\. I'm not sure if any of you notice but until recently, I did not have a plan for where this was suppose to go. I tend to start stories on impulse (oops) so yeah, there was no plan. But alas, a plan is in the works and I repeat, we have an actual plot and not just useless angst and failed attempts at comedy. Yay. 
> 
> 4\. I have started school again but fear not, this quarter is actually not as frustrating. I'm going to try to churn out a chapter a week but no promises. I have serious writers block but I will try. Especially since my schedule is pretty clear this quarter. So look forward to that. 
> 
>  
> 
> As always, thank you for reading :)   
> Title from the song 'The moment I said it' by Imogen Heap.


	5. Through the dark

The drive to Bellamy's apartment was one of nervous glances and the internal dilemma of whether this was the right decision or not. It wasn’t like she was committing a heinous crime or god forbid, sleep with someone else’s boyfriend, but she couldn’t shake the jittery thump of her heart as she drove towards his apartment. The truth was, there was an unusual rush of adrenaline pulsing through her during the phone call and she honestly doesn’t know what it was that made her so rash and reckless with her decision. But then she remembers the image of Bellamy Blake on that balcony of his, half naked and all and suddenly all sense of doubt (and dignity, really) seems to vanquish in an instant. 

It nearly took all but a couple minutes for Clarke to register just what her words had meant after he had hung up. And after what seems like an eternity of constant haggling and demands from Jasper and Monty, Clarke finally came to the sudden realization that crap,  _she had fucked up._  Somehow, she had been roped into visiting Bellamy at his apartment at this time of the night and shit, she couldn’t shake the nervous pounding in her heart at the knowledge. Parts of her wanted to call him back, and profess that this was an undeniably, justifiably  _bad_  idea. And yet, with all the constant worries ringing about, the thoughts of him wanting to see her at this time so suddenly made her grinned like an idiot. 

“Something is definitely wrong with me,” she said aloud to no one in particular. 

Clarke finds her reflection in the rearview mirror and can’t help but think of how much of a cliche she’d become. The old Clarke was very much the kind to believe that men should be the one to make the first move, and yet, here she was, trudging across town in the middle of the night for some guy that wasn’t even her boyfriend for god’s sake. She was pulling out all the stops for him and she didn’t even have the slightest clue on how he felt about her. Because let’s admit, when a guy literally runs away after you engage in something as intimate as holding hands is not the best indication of his feelings. And Clarke’s had just about enough of indecisive assholes and their mixed feelings. 

If she was honest with herself, parts of the reason she agreed to come over tonight was the ultimate sign of resignation for her. She was ready for whatever he wanted to lay on her. She had came to a begrudging conclusion that maybe Bellamy’s heart was still yearning for Finn’s ex and there was no way there was room for her in his heart. He didn’t deny it when she asked him if he loved Raven, and something deep inside told her that it’s still not the case right now. After all, what was their one month trial pales in comparison to his three years (or possibly more) of longing for  _her._  

To Bellamy, Clarke had merely been a placeholder for Raven. 

Or worst, nothing at all. 

The roads were empty at this time of the night and although she lived a mere ten minutes drive from campus, it took her more than twenty minutes to actually arrive at the place. And another ten to eventually coax herself into getting out of the car. As she make her way towards the familiar door, an awful reminder struck her. _What the hell was she going to do about Finn?_

For the better part of the last month, Clarke was careful in her avoidance of Finn. 

He still hung around from time to time, and she came up with every excuse plausible in order to escape his tenacious gaze. After awhile, he must have gotten the hint somehow because he ceased all activities of sorts completely. Clarke was glad, because she was starting to get creep out from all of these unwanted attention. But then he showed up again during the time Bellamy began to disappear and even though he didn’t bother her as much, there was this look in his eyes and she almost shudder at the memories of them. His eyes spoke of an unceremonious mix of desire and guilt, drawing in something disreputably dangerous. The image sent shivers down her spine as she recalled a chilling run-in with him earlier this week. 

———

It was an uneventful monday night and Clarke had just gotten out of her anthropology lecture that ran on for a bit too long for her liking. Professor Sydney had a tendency to go on tangents most of the time and God Clarke wishes she had listened to Monty when he told her that it was not worth the trouble, especially since class ran for two whole hours and ended at 5:30 p.m. every monday and wednesday. 

It had been raining earlier that day, and everything was seemingly murkier than usual. The crisp autumn air was now replaced by a dreary winter breeze and Clarke quivers slightly at the dismal sight surrounding her. The walk to the underground parking lot was routinely quiet, and she curses once again for condemning herself to a quarter of shitty class schedule. She really should have listened to Monty, she thought wryly. 

As she makes her way towards her navy blue Jetta, Clarke sees a figure loitering suspiciously close to where she parked. The figure was hooded and she couldn’t make out any significant features except for a few strands of hair that stuck out loosely. Fearing the possibility of a deluded creeper, Clarke reaches inside her backpack for that nifty pocket knife Jasper had gotten her for Christmas one year, ready to defend herself from her assailant when a familiar voice called out her name. 

“Clarke!” The voice sounded calm, almost tranquil as she knits her eyebrows in confusion. 

The figure moves closer to where she stood just as Clarke warily steps back. When it became clear that it was none other than Finn Collins, she heaves a small sigh of relief. At least she wasn’t going to die today. 

“Finn?” She called out loudly, still gingerly aware of his movement. “What are you doing here?” 

His hand reached to pull down the hood that was concealing his face and again, his smile sent chills down her back. He was looking at her, lips quirked into a wicked grin and her heart beats abruptly at the sight. There was something amiss in the way Finn was looking at her now. It wasn’t the same kind of adoration he had shown her the first time she met him. There’s a tinge of pride in his eyes and she can’t help but feel small under his scrutiny. There was greed in his gaze and she could almost feel the target he was painting on her back—as if she was some type of prey ready for a reaping. She’s almost compelled to run away when a pair of hands clasp onto her smaller ones. 

“W-What’s up?” she managed to squeak out, all too aware of all the signs screaming ‘DANGER’ in his eyes. She had to play her cards right or there was no way she could get out of this unhinged. 

“Clarke, I need you to listen to me,” His voice was a combination of haste and uncertainty. Clarke manages a small nod, indicating for Finn to go on. “Bellamy is dangerous. He will hurt you. Don’t get mixed up with a guy like him.” When Clarke’s brows cocked up in defense, Finn’s grip on her wrist tightened and she quickly let out a brisk  _‘okay’_  as he loosened his clutch on her hands.

“I don’t understand, Finn, Bellamy is your friend. He’s your roommate.” Clarke knew she shouldn’t have asked, and maybe she should have tried to refrain from all opportunities to interact with Finn altogether but there was a gnawing feeling in her chest and she couldn’t let this chance go. 

Something jerked in the boy in front of her and for a moment, his eyes faltered towards the ground. It was brief but Clarke is almost certain he looked a little wounded. But the image succinct in a matter of seconds and Finn’s face disfigures into a stoic mask. 

“Bellamy Blake has never been a friend to me.” The gruff in his voice spoke volumes and Clarke could sense that something had gone awry between the two. She merely nodded in false pretense, afraid of what might transpire if she decided to inquire any further. She quickly draw up an excuse to escape his clasp and bid him a brief goodbye before hightailing out of there. 

Finn's face was apparent in her rearview mirror and as she drove home that night, Clarke couldn't shake the alarming exchange she had with her former acquaintance. What did he mean by dangerous? Was he talking about Raven? Or did something else happen between them? 

It was hard to imagine that this was the same man she thought she could love just mere weeks ago. Standing in front of her now, he looks cold enough to hurt someone and there's an uneasy thought in her head that maybe it wasn't so out of reach for him now. 

———

Pushing aside thoughts of Finn, Clarke brings herself to knock on Bellamy's apartment door, announcing her arrival. She vaguely remembers Bellamy telling her that Finn had temporarily relocated somewhere else for the time being so she didn't have to worry about his presence as much. 

When she hears the lock becoming unhinged, Clarke is about to go off on her spiel about why this was a bad idea and how sick she was of his wishy-washy ways when her eyes caught sight of Bellamy's glorious (and naked) pectorals. Well, there goes all her plans for tonight. 

Sensing the flush that was creeping about on her neck, Clarke reluctantly pulls her eyes away from his chest and shift her gaze towards those pensive brown eyes she knew so well. Bellamy was standing at the entrance, hands clutching onto the door handle, and eyes narrowing her own as silence drape over them. 

"Hey," He spoke, hesitance rung loud and clear in his voice. 

"Hi." She replied with the same tentative tone.

Without further deliberation, Bellamy push the door further aside to let her through. She quietly makes her way towards the kitchen counter as Bellamy wordlessly trail behind. The silence is deafening between them and Clarke is suddenly conscious of the way her heart is beating vehemently against the hollows of her ribs. 

"Clarke," she hears him call out as she swiftly spun around to face the man behind her. His eyes are a familiar mix of wistful gazes and careful deliberation. Suddenly, Clarke doesn't feel so confident anymore--not when he's standing over there looking at her like he's been searching for her after all these time. Clarke feels her breath hitch as he takes meticulous steps towards the kitchen counter where she stood. 

At first, the stares were imminent. 

He was there. Half-naked. Staring at her. It would’ve been rude to not reciprocate. 

But this isn’t the first time she’s been over and it’s certainly not the first time he’s shirtless. Still, there’s a glint in his eyes and his lips are curved into a despicable smirk and she’s feeling like her first high school dance all over again. They are doing this back and forth dance with their eyes and she’s thinking he’s asking her for a dance but it’s not her he’s looking at. 

He’s reaching behind her and she feels her heart beating so rapidly that she’s scared he might’ve heard her desperation. But her hands remain empty and her lips un-kissed. 

For the first time in her life, Clarke is genuinely jealous of a fruit. 

"You gonna tell me why this couldn't wait until the morning?" She managed to say as Bellamy take a bite of his apple. 

His face distorts into a beguiling smile and Clarke tries her best not to fidget over the close proximity between them. 

"Oh but you're the one willing to drive over at midnight." He teased, pulling away from their place against the island and leisurely saunter off to the opposite side. 

She narrows her eyes at him, studying the way his lips slanted into an astute smile. His smile spoke of mischief and frivolity, but his eyes remain contemplative and perhaps even sorrowful. His back is slumped against the kitchen sink but she could see the way his shoulder tensed under her surveillance. He was holding something back, she could see it in the way his forehead creased and she couldn't help but want to close off the tantalizing space between them. 

Bellamy's body became taut as Clarke make her way towards the fretful man. 

"Bellamy..." she all but whispered, nearing closer to where he stood. Her hand carefully lifts to caress the unyielding skin on his face. 

He doesn't turn away at her touch but the distance in his eyes conveyed more than enough as Clarke feel her own hand retract at his reluctance. Still, she doesn't move away, choosing to place her fallen hand onto his timid shoulders instead. 

"I know why you've been avoiding me." She began, traces of hurt lingering in her voice. "But Bellamy, I'm not her." 

The sudden mention of Finn's ex-girlfriend seems to stir something inside him. The hand that was hanging idly by the edge of the counter was now clenching tightly onto the concrete material. Bellamy's teeth grit together in a grating manner, and Clarke mentally make a note of the way the subject had sent him into a frenzy. 

"That's… not it." His voice was deep and low--she's almost surprised at the sudden sound emerging from the man beside her. Bellamy turns to look at her square in the face; his eyes still in a state of fury but somehow had languished when it fell on her. "This isn't about Raven.. Not really at least." 

Contemplation shroud the rigid air surrounding them and she all but raised her brows in bewilderment as she urge him to continue on. 

"Clarke, I like you." The certainty in his voice shook her a bit, and she can't help the blush that tainted her cheeks at his proclamation. "But I can't do this to Finn, not again." 

Clarke can almost feel the blush that was high and bright on her cheeks descend at the mention of Finn. Her face twisted into an agitated frown and she almost feels the need to knock some sense into the man beside her. To say Clarke was mad was maybe the understatement of the fucking year. 

"Are you fucking serious." Somehow, that came out more as a statement than a question. Bellamy's brows shot up in abrupt confusion and Clarke dismissed any chance for him to counter against her. "Don't give me that bullshit, Bellamy. Don't fucking tell me that the reason you don't want to be with me is because of Finn. I think I deserve more than some lame excuse after all that happened between us." 

Clarke could feel her body shake in impetuous anger but the words slipped out in a string of hysteria and frankly, she's tired of being a pawn in their little games right now. Bellamy's face plummets at her declarations and she slightly relished in the way her words had stunned him into a sudden stupor. 

"Look, I told you before, I'm not her. I made do with the fact that she's someone important to you. But don't you dare tell me that Finn's the reason you and I can't be together. I don't know what you think you know about my previous relationship with Finn is but I need you to understand that there is nothing between Finn and I. Not now, not then, not _ever._ "

Her words seem to have concoct a flurry of emotions inside of him. Bellamy's eyes lit up almost heedfully at her confession and she couldn't help the triumph that plastered across her face. Still, he refuses to look at her in the eyes and Clarke sense a final push before she could convince him definitively. 

"Bellamy," she whispered, eyes demanding his own as her fingers slid to the outlines of his features. "I like you, a lot. I like you more than I could fathom into words. Hell, I've liked you since the first time we met. There's a lot of things I wish I could take back, but if I hadn't been with Finn then I would have never been able to meet you. So in a way, I'm glad for Finn. That is not to say that I don't regret being with him. Because I do, every single day since I've met you. But Bellamy, I need you to stop associating my past with Finn as something similar to what was between him and Raven. You are not betraying Finn by being with me because I am not, and has never been, Finn's to begin with. I am not an object for the two of you to fight over. I am my own person and being with you is a choice I'd make over and over again. So please, stop pushing me away." 

Clarke knew that coming here tonight meant that she was potentially pushing herself towards rejection. The truth was that she had made amends with the fact that Bellamy Blake could not be hers, not entirely at least. Because deep inside her, Clarke was always faintly aware of the fact that his heart had never quite abandoned his impending feelings for Raven. But she couldn't simply stand by and let him drown himself in unrequited love forever. And if there was a chance that somehow she could rectify that blaringly obvious void in his heart then she'd like to at least be given a chance to do so. She had never been the type to impose herself onto others but Bellamy was unlike other people and for the first time in a long time, Clarke isn't afraid of the impending defeat in her future. Frankly, she was tired of other people deciding her fate for her. 

"Okay." The sound was soft, quiet even, but she had heard it loud and clear. 

Bellamy's face twisted towards her in newfound resolution and Clarke's lips curved into an elated grin at the sight. His own lips arched into an easy surrender and she feels a gravitational pull tugging her closer to those enchanting lips of his. Before she could pull away, his lips fell onto hers in the most explosive of ways. Her hand is lost in that unruly mop of his as his hands roam the plane of her back, slowly losing himself in every curve and dip of her body. 

The kiss was sweet and nectarous, leaving her wanting more than she's afraid to admit. Clarke almost let out a whimper when she feels him pull away but when his hand pulls her towards the hallway and into his bedroom, she could barely contain the smile that replenish at the sight. 

 

They don't have sex that night; choosing to fall asleep in the comforts of each other instead, and for the first time in a long while, they both fall asleep with a smile on their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling quite proud of myself for this chapter. It only took me two days to finish this and that's record time for someone like me. I'm really excited about everything I have planned for this fic but I'm gonna warn you all now that it's about to get a bit angsty up in here. No worries though, I won't do anything to break up our OTP. 
> 
> In other news, I'm actually contemplating whether or not to expand this fic after the initial 8-chapters run. I'm perfectly content with ending where I'm suppose to end but I might draw it out to see how far much more I can write (so it's really just a test run for me). Let me know what you think! 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!  
> Title from the song 'Through the dark' by One Direction (no shame).


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